


The Son of Apollo Shall Rise

by Meimeiriron



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Backstory, tbh who knows
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-30
Updated: 2016-01-30
Packaged: 2018-05-17 05:37:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5856217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meimeiriron/pseuds/Meimeiriron
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It has been 3 years since Gaea was defeated. The Romans and Greeks are no longer on speaking terms after a tiny tiff became a massive argument. A prophecy has been spoken to Nico on how he should fix it, but that happens to include a Son of Apollo who should be dead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Son of Apollo Shall Rise

**Author's Note:**

> This is called, I have an essay due in soon but I wanted to write about my trash son Octavian and do backstory things. Sorry essay.

_Octavian_.

The voice echoed through the fields of Asphodel. The tall, pale boy recognised it, but didn't think much of it. The voice was soft, and sweet, and as suddenly as it came, it left. How long had he been here? He couldn't remember. It could have been centuries, or just a few weeks. He tried his best to hold onto memories, but most of them seemed to drift by. He had never felt so at peace with himself. Maybe it's better this way, he thought, to be blissfully unaware of one's past.

 _Octavian_.

The voice was louder now, but still sounded like voices in dreams. There, but not really  _there_. 

But the hand grabbing his wrist was very, very real. He stared at it, running his eyes along the length of the arm, and to the owner of the hand. He recognised the face, but not enough to piece together a strong picture. It was a boy, no, a young man. Teenager, perhaps? He wasn't sure, but there was something in his ashen face and tired eyes and dark hair that just reminded him of  _something_. He stared, but the longer he stared, the more the figure seemed to shift. He must be dreaming again, because suddenly the figure was replaced with something else, something more god-like, and then suddenly it was a tall, powerful young woman with a long billowing cape.

"What?" he asked, staring at this shifting mirage.

"Focus," said the voice, still soft and sweet, "Focus on me right now. Your memories are clouding your judgement."

Memories? He furrowed his eyebrows and squeezed his eyes shut, and when he opened them again he was stunned. It wasn't anyone he knew or he had ever met, but he knew  _of_ the person well enough.

"There is something I need you to do," the man said, the voice becoming more real and tangible and less soft and sweet. It was harsh and bitter and... sad? "Follow me."

Octavian was pulled to his feet and dragged out of the Fields of Asphodel. He covered his eyes, unable to process what was happening quick enough for his lulled brain. When he opened them, they had arrived in what must have been Pluto's office. The man who had saved him was Pluto.

"What?" Octavian asked, looking around the darkened room.

"Son of Apollo, I am offering you a very simple opportunity," said the god as he walked behind his desk to arrange some papers. The place was extraordinarily neat, especially considering how tired the owner of the place looked. "Do you wish to have a second chance?"

"I... I--" he started, gulping down his fear, "Yes."

"I will give you the opportunity to return to the land of the living," he said, "On one condition." He took a pause, then looked through his papers for a bit. "Your gift and propensity for prophecy is truly astounding, albeit slightly misused in your lifetime. My son, Nico, requires companionship for a quest, and the Oracle of Delphi has spoken that it is one that is dead. From what I deduce, it meant you."

"What is this quest?" he asked, looking up at the threatening god.

"To reunite the camps."

"Are the camps not united currently?"

Pluto sighed and shook his head. "No. They were for a while, but differences will always exist. What they need now is a son of Apollo with the Gift of Tongues."

"I'm just a legacy," Octavian said, furrowing his eyebrows, "I think you've got the wrong dead person."

Pluto let out a coarse laugh, then shook his head. "It's amazing how ignorant an intelligent boy can be when ingrained with such nonsense. Why do you think your powers are so strong, my child? No legacy as far down the line as you would have such power."

"I'm..."

"Will you accept or not? Upon your return, you may be able to convince the Romans to cease fighting, and convince the Greeks to cease retaliating. If you, Octavian, the one who almost instigated the war could also end it, you can do the same here. Will you accept?"

The Roman nodded and replied, "Yes."

* * *

There were whisperings all around the camp. It had been 3 years since the Roman-Greek dispute and the rise of Gaea, and it was all going well until somebody started the taboo argument about whether Greeks or Romans were better. Now, they weren't on speaking terms anymore. Well, not until a mysterious figure randomly appeared at the border of the camp, wearing nothing but jeans and a blue t-shirt. When Nico went to inspect who it was that arrived, he immediately recognised them as the Roman augur who should have been dead. What the hell, Dad, was death not even sacred anymore?

"What are you doing here?" Nico asked as he approached the Big House where Octavian was being kept.

"You tell me, your father was the one who sent me."

"You should be dead."

"I was," he replied, "I was very, very dead. But now I'm alive."

" _How_?"

"What part of  _your father_ do you not understand, son of Hades."

"Oh gods," he groaned, "This has to do with that prophecy."

"You look older," Octavian said suddenly, and Nico couldn't help but stare and blink, "How long has it been?"

Right, of course. Octavian was dead. Wherever he was in hell, he wouldn't have known how many years had passed, and he surely wasn't in Elysium so it's not like he could ask around. "It's been 3 years," Nico replied, "Just over."

"Oh," he said, looking down and away. 

That was awkward. Nico rubbed at his neck sheepishly. For all the confidence he had gained over the years, he was still an awkward guy at 18. Sure he had filled out more and grown taller, but he still looked like the son of Death, both literally and figuratively. Octavian, however, looked the same as the day he died, minus the part where he looked like a madman as he loaded an onager while Imperial gold smoked all around him. Nico gave Octavian's body a quick scan. There wasn't much in the way of remnants of his death, except for the faded circular burn scars up his forearms and his neck where his jewellery must have scalded him.

"So, guess we're the same age," Nico said, "Uh, hmm, so you have no idea why you're here?"

"Something about a prophecy," he replied, "And the Romans and Greeks fighting."

"And I assume you're happy about that?"

"I guess I should be," Octavian replied curtly. "I have no more reason to be angry."

"Hell really mellowed you out."

"It really did."

Nico paused, then asked, "Where were you?"

"The Fields of Asphodel," he replied, "Where you found your sister."

"Ah, right."

There was a very, very awkward silence between them. Finally, Nico broke it and asked, "Would you like to know what happened to everyone else?"

"Not particularly, no."

"Well, uh," he paused, then sighed, "When the Greeks and Romans were still somewhat friendly, they built a New Greece so that adults could live there or study or whatever. Or well, they are still working on it. It's coming together."

"And they are there?" he asked.

"Yes. Do you remember who they are?" Nico asked. He knew that being in the Fields would mess with one's memories.

"Vaguely," he replied, "I know of Jason something. And Reyna. I remember them the clearest. Then there is a Son of Neptune. And that is all that I remember."

"Oh," he started, then sighed, "Did you remember me?"

"Barely."

"So not even Frank or Hazel?"

"No. I don't know who they are, but if I met them, then surely my memory would be sparked."

"When Hazel came back she had these blackouts where she'd retreat back into her memories," he admitted, "But you've only been there 3 years, so I guess it won't be so bad."

"Where are they all, then?"

"Around here, sometimes. They're older now, so they're doing old people things, like University and stuff."

Octavian was silent for a while and eventually he took a seat on one of the chairs. He seemed incredibly tired just from standing up for a short while. Nico sat down next to him.

"Your father called me a Son of Apollo," Octavian said, "Then he called me ignorant for saying I'm a legacy."

Nico stared at Octavian. He couldn't see the family resemblance that all other children of Apollo shared. His hair wasn't a bright gold and his skin wasn't almost shining in the sun. He was pale as a piece of paper and his hair almost just as white. His eyes, however, were as bright blue as a nice spring sky. 

"Have you ever spoken with Apollo?"

Octavian laughed, "Only when he wants to degrade me and tell me how disappointed he is." He sighed, then shook his head, "What's the point of these gifts and I can't even use them right?" There was a bitterness and self-loathing in the tone Octavian used that Nico was oh-so-familiar with. "I just wanted to save New Rome."

"And you did," Nico replied, "You may have done something stupid, but you saved it, and you saved everyone else." He paused, trying to think of something that would make Octavian feel better. "You're regarded as a hero by the Romans," Nico said, "They've got your picture on a wall and everything. The unlikely hero."

"That's nice," he said in the most defeated tone Nico ever heard from the ex-augur. 

"You really don't care?" he asked, "You were so obsessed with becoming praetor, how can you not care about being a hero?"

"I don't remember wanting to be praetor," he stated plainly, "Look, Nico. I don't remember a lot of things. It's all very, very hazy. You talking at me like I'm an idiot isn't helping it either. It's all very... very confusing."

"I'm sorry," Nico sighed. He should have more respect for the dead, or in this case, the undead. "Do you want to hear the prophecy that was spoken?"

"I already know it," Octavian said, "Your father told it to me. It goes something like, 'The Son of Apollo will Rise, and with the Son of Hades be allies, the Roman and Greek fight will end, for as long as two can make friends' or something."

"Well, okay, yeah that's pretty much it," Nico said, "Close enough anyway."

"You know what I don't understand?"

"What?"

"'The Son of Apollo will Rise' doesn't necessarily mean 'from the dead'. It could have been anyone you know."

"Look, I'm just as confused about this as you are," Nico sighed, rubbing his temples, "I'm assuming that Dad is just trying his best to make sure we can all get along again, and I will admit you have a natural way with your words."

"Thanks. So uh, allies?"

"Right," Nico said, extending his hand for Octavian to take. Octavian stared at it for a while, then shook it. "Allies."


End file.
